


Until it's Over

by blakefancier



Series: For Your Entertainment [18]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard's got a lot to work through. He's not sure he can see the light at the end of the tunnel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until it's Over

**Author's Note:**

> OMG, I'm done! I'm so, so done! I started this series about eleven months ago, can you believe it? I never thought I'd see the end of it, but I did! Whew!
> 
> Now on to Blot Out the Sun!

It's been two long, lonely days without Steve when Howard gets a letter from home. He doesn't open it. He props it on his worktable and stares at it, wondering what his mother has to say. It can't be good, not if they've heard.

He gets up and goes to find Peggy. She's in the gym, pounding on the punching bag, a wisp of hair plastered to her sweaty forehead, her expression fierce and intense. He slips his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "I think you've beaten it to a pulp."

She stops, panting harshly, and wipes her forehead with her arm. "Howard. I didn't expect to see you here. Is everything all right?"

"You wanna go out for drinks? We could go to the Savoy." He balls his hands into fists and bites his bottom lip.

She frowns slightly and tilts her head. "All right. That sounds like fun. Give me an hour to get cleaned up?"

He nods. "I'll wait for you near the south exit."

*****

They make small talk on the way to the Savoy. Peggy's wearing her favorite dress, the one that makes Steve tongue-tied, and matching red lipstick. The letter is in his pocket; he keeps slipping his hand in to touch it. When they get to the hotel bar, they find a quiet corner and nurse their drinks.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

He fiddles with his glass and shrugs. "I got a letter from home today."

"Was there bad news?" Peggy touches his wrist and he shakes his head.

"I don't think so." He licks his lips. "I didn't open it." He takes it out and lays it on the table.

"Why not? What are you afraid of?"

"It's from my mother." Howard takes a drink, enjoying the burn of alcohol. "My parents have never written me. Neither one of them. They must know. The rumors must have made it stateside by now."

"Are you afraid they'll pull you home?" She touches the envelope.

"I'm not a child," he says, and his voice trembles.

"No, but you're an unbonded submissive. Not even the American Elite are that progressive."

"Most of the Elite couldn't care less what happens to me." Howard finishes his drink.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But your parents will care. " She picks up the envelope. "Do you want me to read it?"

He nods and watches her open the envelope, take out the letter and unfold it. Peggy scans the pages, pursing her lips. He taps his foot against the ground, his heart pounding in his chest. "Well?"

She shrugs. "They're not calling you home. Although, I don't think your mother is very happy with you."

"What does she say?"

She clears her throat. " _Dearest Howard, I hope this letter finds you well. Your father is good health, and my work with the church keeps me busy. You'll be happy to hear that your brother is courting a lovely young woman. You may know her: Emily Astor._ Then she goes on to talk about the young lady's good standing, etcetera."

"Peggy," he says.

"All right, I'm getting to it. _Your father and I are keeping abreast of the news on the war efforts as best we can. We worry about you, my darling boy. Please do try to write more. The Van Andel's boy, Richard said he saw you a few months ago in London and we were happy to hear that you were safe, or as safe as one could be in the middle of a war. He also imparted some interesting news to your father and I. He told us that you were engaged in a liaison with an Army captain and that you were displaying his 'dog tags' around your neck_."

Howard groans and covers his face in his hands. Goddammit, he's going to punch Richard in the nose the next time he sees him!

"Oh, it gets better." Peggy grins. " _Howard, I am so very happy to hear that you've finally accepted your place in Elite society. I wish to hear more about this captain of yours. Hopefully, from your own hand. Please, write soon._ " Peggy sets the letter on the table. "She goes on to talk about your father's business dealings."

"My father can't be happy about this." He rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Did you really think you could keep the news from them forever?"

"Yes!" He sighs. "No… I suppose I didn't want to think about it. My father…" His stomach clenches.

"We all know what your father thinks, Howard." She takes his hand. "You and Steve always have a place with the British Elite, if you chose not to go back to New York."

Howard smiles. "Thank you, Peggy. But I'm not sure that Captain America would like us emigrating." 

"He could always change his name. I rather like Captain Britain."

He scowls at her playfully. "Get your own hero." 

"Don't think we won't, Stark." She gestures for a waiter. "Don't think we won't." 

*****

He starts the letter to his mother half a dozen times. He only ever gets a few lines in before he crumples the paper and throws it out. 

His father had said, _If I ever catch you again, I'll kill you._ Howard still has nightmares about it. 

He's a grown man now and Steve is… Steve is Steve. 

But he still can't write the letter.

*****

He's sitting at his desk, staring down at a blank piece of paper, pen in hand, when there's a knock at the door. He lets out a relieved sigh. "Come in," he shouts and the door opens. 

It's Peggy and… and she looks pale, her lips pressed together in a thin line, her eyes red. 

Howard's stomach roils and fear makes his tongue heavy. But he forces himself to speak, forces out one shattered word. "Who?"

She shudders. "Barnes." 

He's on his feet without a conscious thought. "I need to find Steve."

"Give him an hour. He's meeting with Phillips right now." Peggy shakes her head. "At least they managed to capture Zola." 

"That's a small comfort," he says, his heart aching for Steve and the Commandos.

"We're in the middle of a war, Howard. All we have are small comforts." 

*****

When Howard finds Steve later, he's sitting on Barnes's bunk, gently stroking the edge of his shield, face still smudged with dirt.

Howard sits next to Steve, their shoulders brushing. "I'm sorry," he says, although he knows the words are inadequate. 

"He was my best friend." Steve's voice is rough and Howard yearns to smooth away the pain. "He… He was there for me when my mom passed away. He took care of me when I was too sick to take care of myself. And now he's dead." Steve looked up into his eyes. "What good is the serum if I can't even save my best friend?"

"I don't know," he says, helplessly. He wishes there were some way he could make everything better, some word or action that would take Steve's pain away. But he knows there isn't. 

"I'm tired of losing the people that I love, Howard." Steve cups his face and kisses him. "I'm tired of broken dreams and lost chances. I'm so sick and tired."

"Sir." Howard wraps his fingers around Steve's wrists and just holds on.

"Howard," Steve murmurs against his mouth. "I lov—"

"Stall!" Steve freezes at the word and oh God, Howard hadn't meant to say it. He doesn't know why he said it. 

Steve pulls his hands from Howard's grasp and leans away; his mouth is twisted into a bitter smile.

Howard's heart hammers in his chest and he feels sick. "I didn't mean—I—" 

"Go away," Steve says softly.

"Sir, please." Howard's voice breaks and he tries to take Steve's hand but is pushed away.

"I can't… I don't…" Steve takes a deep breath. "I need you to go away and leave me alone. I can't deal with this right now. I just… I *can't*."

He opens his mouth to apologize, to explain, but Steve looks away, and he knows that staying will only hurt Steve more. He slowly gets to his feet, eyes stinging, each breath coming in a painful gasp. "I'm sorry about Barnes," he says, before stumbling out into the hallway. 

When he gets back to his room he takes out a fresh sheet of paper and writes, _Dear Mother, It doesn't matter. Dad was right, everything I touch turns to ashes_.

*****

Steve doesn't come to bed that night. In fact, Howard doesn't see Steve again until they're in the war room discussing the intel Phillips extracted from Zola. Steve doesn’t look at him the whole time and Howard considers getting down on his knees and begging for forgiveness.

After the meeting breaks up, Howard grabs his notepad and walks over to where Steve, Peggy, and Phillips are quietly talking. He clears his throat; Peggy and Phillips turn to him with questioning looks. Steve looks through him and Howard bites the inside of his cheek.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Stark?" Phillips asks.

"It's about the mission." He swallows hard. "I want to come with you."

"No," Steve says in a tone that brooks no argument. 

"You might need me. You don't know what sort of weapons Schmidt could have in his base." Howard touches Steve's arm; Steve pulls away. "I won't be in the way. I won't go in until I'm given the all clear."

"Mr. Stark, we don't have time to babysit a civilian." 

Howard looks at Phillips. "It's a good thing I don't need a babysitter, then. I might not be a military man, Colonel, but I know how to handle a gun."

"He is a damn fine shot, Colonel," Peggy says.

"He'll be in the way." Steve crosses his arms over his chest and Howard is suddenly angry and hurt.

"Either you take me with you or I follow you. Your choice, sir. Captain." He swallows hard. "Please." 

Steve shrugs and keeps his eyes on Phillips. "It's your decision, Colonel, but I'd advise against it." 

Phillips looks from Howard to Steve and back again, eyes narrowed. "You keep back until the all clear is given, you understand, Stark? 

Howard nods vigorously and Steve walks out of the room without a backwards glance. He resists the urge to follow.

"It's like leading a bunch of high school kids," Phillips mutters before following Steve out. 

Peggy gently touches Howard's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he says brightly. 

"Howard." Her voice is soft and she looks at him with pity.

A lump forms in his throat and he looks away. "Fine."

She pulls him into a hug and he buries his face against her neck. "He's hurting right now, Howard. Just give him time."

"I ruined everything," he whispers. "Peggy, I ruined it."

"No, sweetheart. No, you didn't." She strokes his hair.

"I did!" He pulls away from her and wipes his face. He doesn’t deserve to be comforted. Steve's the one who needs it. "I messed up. But I'll find some way to make it up to him, Peggy. I will." Before she can respond, he hurries out of the room; he only has a few hours to get ready. 

*****

Howard doesn't wait like he's supposed to when they storm the HYDRA base. It's utterly terrifying and he feels like he's going to vomit at any moment, but he advances with the rest of them. 

It's easy to kill when your life is at stake. It's even easier when you can't see the faces of the people you're killing. He's sure he'll have a nervous breakdown about it later. He hopes Steve will be there to help him through it. 

Howard enters the base behind a few soldiers, moving cautiously, his heart pounding so hard he's sure it's going to burst right out of his chest. Luckily, the fighting is over and everyone is intent on treating the injured.

Someone calls out his name and he turns, still clutching his rifle. Falsworth comes stalking towards him, scowling.

"What the hell are you doing in here? No one's given the all clear. Where's your security detail?" Falsworth grabs him by the back to his jacket and shakes him.

"Got lost in the mayhem." He looks around. "Where's Steve?"

"Working! Which is what I should be doing. Instead, I have to babysit a pushy little submissive who should be back at base where he's safe!"

Howard lifts his chin. "You're not my Dom."

"If I was, you sure in the hell wouldn't be here. You'd be at home minding the children and keeping my house in order." Falsworth is practically growling.

"Well, then I am lucky!" Howard pushes Falsworth back. "I need to find Steve."

"You're not going anywhere. What you're going to do is sit your arse down and stay out of the way, like a good little boy." Falsworth hisses when Howard opens his mouth to protest. "Right now, Howard, I don’t give a damn who your Dom is. If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'yes, sir', I'm going to put you over my knee and give you the spanking of your life." 

Howard considers testing Falsworth, but then he looks around at the injured men around him. He slumps a bit and nods. "Yes, sir."

Falsworth touches his shoulder. "I'm sure Cap is fine. If I see him before you do, I'll let him know you're looking for him."

*****

Howard almost manages to escape several times, but each time he's brought back by one of the Commandos with firm instructions to sit still and stay out of trouble, Captain's orders. He's beginning to suspect the reason why Steve didn't make him stay in London is because Steve knew he could keep a better eye on Howard here.

It's frustrating and yet something in Howard warms at the idea that even upset, Steve is still taking care of him.

*****

He's just about ready to try another daring escape, when Morita comes flying into the room like he's being chased by a pack of HYDRA agents. 

Morita stumbles to a stop, clutching his sides and wheezing. "Stark. Come with me now!"

Howard's on his feet, adrenaline surging through him. "Tell me," he says, as he follows Morita at a run. He manages to get the gist of it by the time they're in the control room. He rushes to the radio. "Sir? Sir, are you there?" He's trembling so hard he has to put his gun down, but his voice is steady.

"Howard, I'm here. I… I gotta put her in the water." Steve sounds determined, but Howard can hear how scared he is.

"Maybe… Maybe you do, but maybe you don’t. Tell me about the controls. Tell me what you see." Howard swallows hard. "Give me your coordinates."

Steve does, then haltingly explains the flight controls to Howard; he closes his eyes, trying to visualize them. He does his best to guide Steve through a smooth landing, but it's not easy. If Steve's descriptions are correct, the controls aren't standard; Howard has to do a lot of guessing.

"Howard," Steve says softly, "I don’t think this is going to work."

"Yes, it is!" His breathing is harsh and his chest hurts. "It is going to work! You're going to land that plane and when we get back to base, you're going to ask Phillips for some leave. And… And…" A sob escapes his throat. "We're going to New York so you can meet my parents."

"Howard, I'm sorry." The line crackles and Steve's voice cuts in and out. "I lo—" 

Then nothing.

"Sir? Steve? Say something! Steve! Answer me!" Howard closes his eyes and shakes his head. "No. Dammit, no!" 

No.

Howard sits there for a moment, staring down at his hands, his heart breaking. God, what's he supposed to do now? He takes a deep, shuddery breath, rubs his eyes, and does his best to pull himself together. "I need a map," he says softly.

"Howard?" Peggy rests a hand on his shoulder; her eyes are red and there are tear tracks on her face.

"I need a map. I know his last coordinates, Peggy. I know his velocity and I can guess his speed well enough to give you the area where you should start looking." He looks up at her, his mouth twisting. "You have to bring him home. He deserves to be buried in Arlington." 

"Okay," she says gently. "Morita's looking for a map."

He crosses his arms over his chest. "Do you think they'll build him a statue?"

"If not, you can commission one yourself."

"Maybe I will. He'd hate it but—" Howard's voice breaks. "But he's dead. He's… He's dead."

"I'm so sorry, Howard." She wraps her arms around him and he presses his face against her shoulder.

"Me, too," he says, his tears soaking into her jacket. "About so many things." 

*****

The first day back at base, Howard doesn't leave his room. He stretches out on his bed, stares up at the ceiling, and gently winds and unwinds the chain of Steve's dog tags around his fingers. He knows he should get up, shower, eat, get back to work—there's still a war going on—but every time he thinks about, grief wells up in him, leaving him aching and breathless.

He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to do anything. 

The second day, he sits up, looks around the room, and decides to tidy up. He organizes his desk, straightens his worktable, stacks Steve's drawings into a neat pile, and picks up Steve's pajamas off the floor. He opens Steve's drawer, ready to shove the clothes in, when he sees the box.

Howard thinks, _I shouldn't_. Then he remembers that it doesn't matter. Steve won't care if he looks or not. He drops the clothes, picks up the box, and opens it.

He gasps, his vision going blurry, and gently lifts the collar out.

Oh, oh, it's hard to breathe. It's so hard to breathe.

The third day, he grabs a few bottles of whiskey and finds Dugan. "Get drunk with me," he says. 

Dugan tilts his head, then nods. "Let's go." He follows Howard to a small, unused room that Phillips uses for interrogation. 

They finish the first bottle before Howard speaks. "We had a fight the day before we left. He… He was hurting and he wanted to tell me how much I meant to him. He needed to tell me how much I meant to him, and I safeworded. Dugan… Dum Dum, I safeworded. Who does that? Who refuses to let their Dom say… that? Who?"

"Howard." Dum Dum pours them each another glass of whiskey. "He knew how you felt about him. He knew."

"You don't know that! You don't know!" Howard drained his glass. "He never got to say it me. I never… Dum Dum, I… I'll never…" He presses his lips together. "I don't think I can do this."

"You can." Dum Dum puts an arm around Howard. "I know you can."

"I don't want to," he whispers.

"But you will." Dum Dum runs his fingers through Howard's hair. "Now come on. Drink. Neither one of us is drunk enough." 

*****

On the fourth day, Howard wakes to a pounding headache and the hazy memory of crying against Dum Dum's chest until he was sick.

He rolls over and stares at Steve's side of the bed. 

Howard takes a deep breath—no, he's not going to cry. He's not.

He closes his eyes and allows himself to drift back towards sleep. He's almost there. He's almost asleep when the door to his bedroom opens and bangs against the wall.

Howard starts, groaning as his head throbs, and his stomach roils.

"Get up," Peggy says. "Howard, get up!" She sits on the bed and tugs on his arm.

He pulls out of her grasp. "Go away!"

"Howard, come on, open your eyes. They found him! They found Steve."

Grief, dark and suffocating, crashes over him and he turns away. "Of course they did," he says. "I knew my calculations were sound." Now Steve can have a proper burial. 

"No, Howard!" She laughs. "You're not listening. They found Steve! They found him a—"

The rest of what she says is drowned out by a roaring in his ears and for a moment, just a moment, his vision goes white.

"Are you all right?" Peggy gives him a worried frown.

Howard shakes his head, then bolts for the bathroom. 

*****

Howard stands at the end of the hallway, in a robe and slippers, and waits. Steve is coming back at any moment and Howard is terrified. His knees shake and his mouth is dry and he's ready to turn and run.

He wants to turn and run. Instead, he reaches into the pocket of his robe and strokes the soft leather of his collar. It calms him in a way that nothing else can. 

Howard licks his lips and swallows.

Waits.

He hears the Commandos before he sees them. Hears their laughter, their raised voices, and when they turn the corner into the corridor, he gets his first glimpse of Steve among them. 

Howard had expected Steve to look sickly, tired, but he's the image of good health. Of course he is—Erskine was a genius.

Steve's eyes scan the corridor and when their eyes meet, he stops.

Howard tries to smile, but he's afraid again. He holds the collar tightly in his hand, steps out of his slippers, and wiggles out of the robe. He's naked except for Steve's dog tags.

Steve blushes—Howard's glad he's not the only one—and everyone else seems to be in various stages of surprise, except Peggy and Falsworth. They know what this is. They've seen this before.

He slowly walks towards Steve, his heart racing, his skin feeling tight and too small for his body. When he stands in front of Steve, he lowers himself to his knees and holds out the collar. His voice trembles when he speaks, "I come before you, of my own free will, naked and unattached. I offer myself to you as a…" He takes a deep breath. "As a submissive. If you'll have me."

"Howard?" Steve, looking dazed, reaches down and touches Howard's head.

"I love you," he whispers, then clears his throat and says it louder, "I love you."

"I…" Steve hesitates, then squares his shoulders. "I love you, too."

"Then take the damn collar and put it on him, you idiot," Peggy says, nudging him. All around them, people laugh.

"Oh, right!" Steve takes the collar and buckles it around Howard's neck, only fumbling a bit.

Howard gets to his feet; the collar feels strange, but he supposes he'll get used to it. Eventually.

Steve smiles at him and cups his face. "I love you, Howard. I--" Steve pulls him into a kiss.

"Don't ever do that again. Please, sir." He buries his face against Steve's neck.

"Never again," Steve says, wrapping his arms around Howard.

He enjoys the feel of Steve's arms around him for a few moments more, then sighs. "Can we go to our rooms now, sir? I'm cold."

"Yeah." Steve nuzzles his hair. "That sounds like a great idea. That sounds just perfect."

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, I'm probably not going to leave the universe there. Steve still hasn't met Howard's parents! But that will be another story/series (maybe). I need to think about it a bit before I start.


End file.
